


Narcissus

by cryptonym



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: An unconventional threesome, M/M, Spitroasting, misuse of magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 11:41:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4303575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptonym/pseuds/cryptonym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wants to give Draco something really special for his birthday. What could more special than Draco, himself?!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Narcissus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [birdsofshore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdsofshore/gifts).



> This was written for Draco's birthday party over on LJ, from a prompt by the marvellously wonderful birdsofshore, it's a pleasure to know you and take part in all your brilliant little fests, even if a little late!
> 
> Massive thanks to my darling playing_perfect for all your help in making sure I don't make an arse of myself writing this stuff, and for being wonderful <333

It all started when Draco charmed the ceiling above their bed to reflect them, whilst they were fucking.

"You could look at me directly at least some of the time," Harry had complained.

But then Draco had rolled him onto his back and tilted Harry's head up, whispering "look". And he'd slid sinuously down Harry's body, kissing him from nipples to sternum before taking Harry's cock in his mouth.

Harry had watched, wide eyed, as Draco had sucked him off, the flush that spread over Draco's skin, the he arched his back and displayed his arse, knowing Harry was watching open mouthed and hornier than he'd ever been, watching Draco take it as he fucked his face.

Watched the shiver that ran down his spine as Harry gripped his hair and thrust in faster.

And then Draco had slid a hand back, playing with his arsehole and moaning around Harry's cock while he did it.

"Fuck," Harry moaned. "Fucking hell," his hips bucking wildly and coming down Draco's throat, pulling Draco's hair hard enough that some strands came away in his fingers and Draco had complained vehemently afterwards.

Instinctively, he understood that what he liked about the mirror and what Draco liked about it were very different things. Knowledge compounded when Draco moaned, pulling off and rolling onto his back, his eyes fixed on his own body, his hands wandering over it as though he was exploring it for the first time. Pinching and rolling a nipple between his fingertips as his other hand worked his cock in long, lazy strokes, as if he had all the time in the world.

There was a good deal of contortionism, on his back with his legs splayed, watching his lube slicked fingers going in and out in a slow mesmerising slide; on his front, head tilted to the side, arse in the air with Harry pushing a dildo in and out, too fucked out to get it up again quite so soon, even with all the enticement in the world in front of him.

And then, when Harry was ready for take two, both of them shifting around until Draco could see Harry's cock going into his arse over and over and over again. Draco had come hard enough to shake the room, crying out in a way he never had before. And Harry really wanted to see that again.

He could have tried to get his hands on a Pensieve, but Draco didn't seem interested in reliving what had already happened.

It was the library at 12 Grimmauld Place that provided the answer. Of course, it was a rather dubious piece of magic. Hermione would have been able to tell them every single risk factor in great detail, with diagrams. So he didn't tell her what he was planning. He thought of a few himself, but every time he thought about it, thoughts of Draco overwhelmed him and he ended up in the Ministry toilets having a surreptitious wank.

It was a shame because he could have used Hermione's help with the trickier bits of the spell. But since he wasn't a complete slouch - and with such an incentive - he managed it.

The night of Draco's twenty-ninth birthday, Harry was ready.

***

"Come to bed," Harry said with a filthy smirk. "I want to give you your real present."

Draco rolled his eyes. "That isn't endearing, Potter."

"It's not supposed to be endearing, it's supposed to make you horny."

Draco raised a single eyebrow. It would probably floor a lesser man, but Harry knew that Draco used his eyebrows when he couldn't think of a snappy retort. He wasn't exactly immune, though he'd cut out his own tongue rather than tell Draco that.

"Fine. I will finish my birthday drink first, though."

Harry sat watching him avidly until Draco told him to _fuck off, Potter_. So Harry got up and paced until the last drop of firewhisky had been drunk.

"Honestly, anyone would think we never have sex," Draco said, standing up, finally, and smoothing his shirt. He cleaned his glass out with a quick Scourgify, sending it flying back to the drinks cabinet.

Harry was practically vibrating with excitement, every single one of Draco's movements had taken on even more of an allure since he'd decided on this plan. And now he was mesmerised by the way Draco's fingers curled, tensing against the fabric as he tugged each cuff down and straightened the cufflinks. Harry licked his lips, swallowing hard.

Draco was thoroughly enjoying himself. Harry could tell from the tiny quirk at the corner of his lips as he tried to get his smirk under control. Harry's heart was racing triple time at the thought of his "present" and he grabbed Draco's hand unable to control himself any longer.

"Come on," he said, breathlessly impatient, tugging Draco along with him towards the stairs.

"Oh for the love of Merlin." Draco pulled Harry toward him, wrapping an arm around him and Apparating them into their room.

The full size mirror stood in the corner of the room, a blue and silver bow tied messily around it, sagging across the front.

Draco frowned at it. "What's this for?"

"It's your present," Harry replied.

"I..." Draco's eyes shifted to Harry, assessing. "It's lovely, thank you. Now, can we go to bed."

Harry laughed, he couldn't help it. "Not the mirror, what's _in_ the mirror."

Draco pulled the bow away and looked, his own image stared back at him. "It's me," he said, clearly confused. He glanced over at Harry who had pulled out his wand and was casting, enunciating for all his worth. Hermione would be thrilled. "What on earth are you...?"

The wand movement was complex and Harry ignored Draco's increasingly irritable questioning, the spell requiring a bond of sorts between Draco and his mirror self, in order to draw out the image.

"Oh," Draco breathed out, staring as his mirror image stepped out and into their bedroom, his skin shimmered, catching the light, but as he moved out into the room the reflective quality dimmed to a faint sheen.

"Now, you can touch yourself and watch at the same time. Now you can see what I see. Now... well." He shrugged. "Do you like your present?" Harry asked, a note of tension in his voice.

Draco was staring at himself and his mirror image was staring back, neither of them could seem to stop, and Harry started to worry about that Narcissus thing, which had made him laugh a bit when he'd read it because _yeah, that was Draco alright_ and because of Draco's mum, and let's face it like Mother like son in that case.

"Draco?"

He shook himself out of his stupor. "Fuck yes. _Harry_..." Though he was still looking at his mirror image, the way Draco drew out Harry's name so that it was almost a moan, sent a bright flash of warmth and excitement through Harry's body.

"I saw how much you liked watching yourself when we were fucking and when you were touching yourself."

Draco let out a soft laugh. "If Shacklebolt knew the things you get up to in order to please me he'd be furious."

Harry nodded, still holding his breath, unable to speak.

And Draco smiled a wicked little smile that was all for Harry.

"Yeah, I thought you might like it," Harry said, relieved.

"You..." Heat flared in Draco's eyes, and Harry's cock hardened in response.

"Yeah. I want to watch you fuck yourself, Draco. And I know you want to."

Draco smirked, looking back at his mirror image. They reached for one another at the same time. Draco's left hand and his mirror image's right.

"Strip," Draco said and Harry yanked his jumper off over his head, throwing it to the side before he realised that Draco was talking to his mirror image, who was also complying.

Harry half sat, half fell into the large comfy wingback chair next to the wardrobe, with six pairs of his trousers hanging over the back. He grabbed the trousers and dumped them in a heap on the floor, sitting back down, eyes wide, not wishing to miss a single thing.

Mirror-Draco removed his cufflinks, placing them just to the right of the box where Draco always put his, then started unbuttoning his shirt.

Draco removed his own cufflinks, placing them in the ornately carved cherrywood box that had been Harry's gift last Christmas, which held all the Muggle cufflinks and tie pins he'd become so enamoured of.

They were both shirtless, and it was easy to tell them apart, something Harry had thought to be nervous about. But Mirror-Draco's skin had a strange cast to it, a faint pearlescent sheen.

Both of them removed their trousers, neither of them had anything underneath, each folding every piece of clothing neatly and placing them side by side on the chest at the end of the bed. Harry let out a soft moan at the sight of them both, wriggling in his seat, then reaching down to palm his cock through his jeans.

"Oh fuck, yes," Harry murmured, settling into the chair more comfortably, his thighs spread wide.

"Pervert," both Dracos said at once.

Harry laughed and popped the button of his jeans open.

Neither of them were looking at him anymore, though.

Draco slid his hand over mirror-Draco's hip.

"What does it feel like?" Harry asked, unable to contain himself any more. "Tell me."

"What do you want me to say?" Draco snapped, looking over at Harry.

"I don't know. I can't usually get you to shut up. Tell me what he... what you feel like. Remember that time when you tied me up and blindfolded me and got me to tell you everything I could taste and smell?"

"Mmmnnnn," Draco hummed, possibly reminiscing fondly on that memory. Or maybe just thinking about what he was going to say. "His skin is cool. Soft." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to mirror-Draco's neck and Harry could hear the soft inhalation. "But he doesn't smell of anything. It's an imperfect replica."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but how do you feel?"

Draco seemed to think about that for a long time. "I'm not sure how to answer that." Draco slid his hand up, stroking along mirror-Draco's back. "He's beautiful," he said in little more than a whisper, his cheeks flushing.

"Yes, you are beautiful," Harry said.

Draco looked up sharply, but Harry was not teasing.

"Suck me," he instructed mirror-Draco, hands on his shoulders, pushing him down.

Draco's hair fell across his forehead as he tilted his head down. It made him appear softer, more vulnerable, and there was something about the way he was biting his lip that went straight to Harry's dick. Harry knew only too well how much Draco loved having his cock sucked and how much he liked sucking cock, for that matter.

"Oh fuck," Draco said breathlessly. "I am so good at this."

Harry smirked. "Yeah, you are." He was rubbing his hand over the front of his jeans, not wanting to get off too quickly. They were only just starting. "God, you're hot. You could fuck his mouth," he said, squeezing his cock just a little bit harder. "And-and pull his hair."

Draco's lips quirked up at the corners. He slid his fingers through mirror-Draco's hair and gripped it. Mirror-Draco winced, opening his mouth wider in the process, and Draco thrust further inside. He let his head fall back his teeth worrying at his bottom lip in a way that made Harry realise just how hard he was finding it to keep quiet. God knew Draco wasn't the quiet type, but usually he was ordering Harry around, this was... new.

"Make him moan," Harry blurted out, no idea which of them he was addressing, either, both.

"Enough," Draco said, pulling mirror-Draco off, a long trail of saliva, thickened with precome stretching out between the head of his cock and mirror-Draco's mouth.

"Oh my fucking god," Harry whispered, squeezing himself through his jeans. "You should see yourself."

"I can see," Draco said. "On the bed. I want to fuck you. And I want him to fuck your mouth." It took Harry a few moments to process what Draco was saying. To understand that he wasn't just going to watch after all.

Harry made a noise that sounded very much like a whimper and wriggled out of his jeans and pants as fast as he could.

Mirror-Draco was poised at the head of the bed, kneeling straight-backed. He seemed to be shivering, but then Harry realised it was more like shimmering. Probably something to do with his arousal, Harry guessed. Maybe he was nervous? Who knew, where a semi-sentient mirror-image of Draco Malfoy was concerned?

Harry knelt in front of him, spreading his legs wide for balance. And Draco's mirror-image reached out to support him, bracing against his shoulders.

"Kiss him," Draco said.

Harry had no idea which of them the instruction was meant for, but they both pressed forward at the same time, open mouthed, ravenous. It was strange - like kissing Draco but somehow different as well. He didn't taste like Draco. He didn't taste of anything, and it made him shiver. He pulled away, feeling odd.

"I don't think... I'm... I don't know, Draco, I was kind of just thinking that I'd watch-"

Draco pulled Harry round to face him, kissing him in just the same way, but it was a completely different experience. Harry moaned, going from unsure to frantic in the space of seconds.

"You'll do it for me," Draco said, and a shiver of lust ran down Harry's spine sparking intense need in his arse and his cock and his heart felt like it might explode right out of his chest. He nodded.

Draco smirked, keeping hold of Harry's chin and trailing his free hand down along Harry's arm leaving a shivering wake, squeezing his hand briefly, before carrying on across his hip bone, down over the curve of his arse and then his fingers - two of them, slippery with wordlessly conjured lubricant - were pressing into him.

"Oh fuck," Harry said, pushing back against Draco's fingers.

And then Draco's mirror-image reached down taking Harry's cock in his, also lubricated hand. He didn't know which way to go, his body jerking between them. Their touches too slow and steady to bring him off and Harry knew that dance only too well. He shuddered closing his eyes against the rising need in his body, at once welcome and terrible.

"Oh my... fuck, Draco," he said, his voice tight to the point of strangulation. His whole body thrumming and throbbing with need. "Oh God, please."

Draco stroked his fingers down Harry's chin. "All in good time, my darling," he said in that wicked dark voice that makes it sound like a threat, crooking his fingers and fucking him with them, in and out and in and out, and never never never as hard or as fast as he wanted. And mirror-Draco was jacking his cock as if he was polishing a broom handle - with great care and attention that made him want to scream.

"Please," he said brokenly, his body sagging forward against mirror-Draco's steadying hand. He would lie his head against mirror-Draco's shoulder, but his Draco was holding his chin firmly, staring mercilessly into his eyes. And it was so hot, so much what he needed. He was so fucking desperate.

"Get on your hands and knees," Draco said finally, withdrawing his fingers.

His arms felt like jelly, and for a moment Harry thought they wouldn't be able to support him. It was only grim determination that kept him there - ready and oh so willing.

Draco's mirror-image yanked Harry's head up with a rough tug on his hair, bringing tears to his eyes.

Maybe it was his imagination: sense memory of how it was to be that close to Draco - to nuzzle against his thigh and smell his arousal. Whatever it was Harry moaned softly as he did so, drawing the scent of Draco in with each breath.

Draco was behind him, but Harry could hear him preparing. The wet sound of him lubricating his own cock with a few gasping strokes. Then holding Harry's hip with one bruising hand, while he pressed in, in one long breathtaking slide. Harry was more than ready for it, giving almost no resistance. And then Draco was inside him, balls-deep, both hands clutching Harry's hips in a deathgrip that said as eloquently as words _don't move_. And Harry didn't.

A thousand years passed in the blink of an eye. Harry didn't hear the command, but perhaps they were working on mutual understanding, or Legilimency, or... fucked if he knew, but mirror-Draco's cock pressed against his lips and he opened just as easily that way to receive it. Skewered at both ends by the most beautiful man he'd ever had the pleasure-mispleasure to know.

He gave a low groan and everything happened at once.

Draco fucked into him so hard he cried out, just as mirror-Draco's cock slid down his throat, in a panic-inducing thrust. Harry's eyes watered and he tried to relax, to take it for Draco. Not easy, but that was the point, and he could feel Draco's hand sliding along his flank, stroking him, petting him. His head butted against mirror-Draco's stomach every time Draco pushed in. Then the soft slide of fingers in his hair for a moment, holding him steady, pressing him down, making him work to accommodate Draco's cock.

Draco was moaning, uttering terrible, awful, wonderful things about Harry and Harry's arse and all the things that Harry would do for him, and all of it true... And _God_ he just wanted to come already. He knew better than to touch himself, though it was exquisite agony not to.

They built up slowly, thrusting hard but controlled into both of his orifices while Harry leaked a stream of sticky precome onto Egyptian cotton sheets. His head was filled with a constant litany of curses, but all he could utter were fractured sounds and whimpers whenever mirror-Draco pulled out far enough to let him.

Harry felt it as Draco started to unravel, the telltale stutter of his hips, harsh breaths cutting the air. His body curved low over Harry's back as he came with several violent thrusts, heat spreading inside Harry. Mirror-Draco wasn't far behind, Harry choked, swallowing reflexively, come and saliva dripping down his chin onto the bed.

He was suspended between the two on a raw and aching tightrope for agonising moments, and then they both withdrew as one and Harry fell onto his face with a groan, unable to keep from humping the covers, frantic with need, his whole body throbbing.

Gently, Draco turned him over. The look in his eyes unbearable to Harry. It made him feel as if his heart was going to explode and kill them all. Looking at Draco at that moment felt like staring into Pandora's Box. Nothing good could come of it. He closed his eyes.

He was lifted onto what must have been mirror-Draco's thighs, his sweaty hair stroked away from his forehead, knuckles grazed his cheeks, then caressed his collar bones, cool fingers splayed wide.

And Draco was kissing his way up from Harry's sensitive instep, shuddery-ticklish, licking the sweat from his inner thigh. Taking Harry's balls into his mouth, one at a time, and licking the crease at the top of his thigh where it met his hip.

Harry groaned. "You're trying to kill me. I do all this for you and this is how you repay me."

"Shut up, Potter," came the scolding reply that curled his toes. Harry did, though he couldn't help the whimper as Draco took every last inch of his cock in.

"Such a perfect thing... so big... you taste so good." Mirror-Draco said, his breaths growing harsh again. Harry looked up, startled. "I want to do this to you all the time."

"Oh God, Draco..."

Mirror-Draco's hand covered his mouth, silencing him.

"I want to do this to you when you're sitting through some deathly dull meeting at the Ministry. I want to dance with you, to rub up against you at one of those oh so important functions, so you have no choice but to keep dancing or let everyone know how aroused you are - for me. For Draco-fucking-Malfoy."

Harry's _why?_ was muffled by mirror-Draco's hand, but he _they?_ seemed to understand anyway.

"Because I like it. I like knowing that they all think I'm wrong for you, and you want me anyway."

Harry laugh-gasped as Draco sucked and curled his tongue around the head of Harry's dick. "I love that most of all."

Harry curled his fingers in Draco's sleek, soft hair, needing to touch, needing to anchor himself, his whole body strung so tight it vibrated.

"Come for me, Harry."

That was all he needed and he did, Draco neatly swallowing every single drop.

Harry shivered, trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. Draco smirked as he pulled away. Both of them moved and Harry's stomach sank as he tried to adjust. But it was only for a moment, because then Draco lay down in front of him, slinging an arm across his waist, and mirror-Draco spooned up against him from behind.

He didn't understand, but he was too tired to ask, post-orgasm-lethargy setting in. Powerless to fight it he fell asleep like that.

***

It was Harry's twenty-ninth birthday. In spite of the fact that almost the entire Weasley clan was there, Draco had agreed to attend the party at The Burrow.

It was late, Molly had dragged Arthur to bed hours ago, leaving the young ones to enjoy themselves. It was almost 2am and finally Harry and Draco were alone.

Harry watched as Draco approached, his immaculate suit jacket had been discarded at some point earlier in the evening, his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, the mark faded but still noticeable on his left arm. It shouldn't turn him on but it did. A lot.

"Did you have a good time?" Harry asked.

Draco smirked. "What do you think?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Admit it, you had fun."

"Taking the piss out of Weasley had its merits."

Harry snorted. "I'm sure he feels the same about you."

Draco rested his hand on Harry's hip. "I have something for you... your _real_ present." He pressed a small, beautifully wrapped package into Harry's hand, kissing him softly before wandering off to find his jacket, so he said.

Harry looked at the tag _Happy birthday, Scarhead_ and gave a low chuckle. He ripped open the wrapping, discarding it. Inside was a small velvet box and his heart did a strange pirouette. He quickly flipped open the lid, feeling both relieved and dismayed at the contents: a vial filled with the swirling mist of a memory. This one was vivid though. More vivid than any he'd ever seen before. It seemed to shimmer.

He'd never wished so much for a pensieve in his life. It seemed that the thought alone was enough to trigger Apparition. He found himself in a room, bare except for the stone basin set on a pedestal.

No, doors, no windows. Nothing but this. Harry laughed out loud this time. Draco was a sneaky bastard.

He tipped the memory into the pensieve and fell into the familiar surroundings of his and Draco's bedroom. Except it wasn't the usual sort of a memory. His vision was strange... sharper, clearer. And he realised he was inside mirror-Draco's memory. Actually inside mirror-Draco, seeing through his eyes.

Confused he watched the scene unfold, his sense of excitement ramping up. The image of Draco fucking him would forever be seared on his brain, along with the strange sensation of looking down and seeing himself sucking... well, sort of Draco's cock, and the even stranger sensation of the memory of being sucked off by himself. It was blowing his mind more than a little bit, and he wondered if Draco had already watched the memory. Fuck, that was even hotter, imagining Draco in this exact place.

And then Harry was lying in his own lap, his eyes closed. Harry-inside-mirror-Draco looked up just in time to catch a moment of stillness, the look of intense longing and tenderness.

Draco couldn't have seen it then. In a million years he wouldn't have let Harry see his vulnerability as clear as it was then. The last time Harry had seen it, they'd almost killed each other.

Except that Draco's eyes flicked up to meet Harry-in-mirror-Draco's for a moment. Just a fraction of a second, and then he looked back down at Harry lying on the bed and whispered something under his breath. Something Harry hadn't heard at the time, but which he couldn't miss now.

_I love you_

His heart leapt and suddenly he couldn't wait to get out of this memory, even knowing what came next.

And the memory ended. Harry thought about his and Draco's bedroom, Apparating into it, to find Draco - his Draco - lying sprawled but still ridiculously elegant on the bed, waiting for him.

The End


End file.
